


Lonely Boys

by rushie



Series: Mad Max and His Dog [2]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Evolving Tags, F/M, Fix-It, Nux Doesn't Die, Nux Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rushie/pseuds/rushie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He must be dead. Because there is a dog in front of him, and the dog is wearing goggles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Valhalla

Nux’s world is pain.

If this is Valhalla, he thinks, he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t feel shiny or chrome or even anything remotely resembling a person. It’s impossible to pinpoint the pain, impossible to determine which part of him hurts the most. Some dim part of his brain tells him that it’s his back, but he doesn’t know if he can believe it.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying here. He hasn’t been awake the whole time. At least, he doesn’t he think he has. It’s hard to tell. Opening his eyes to check the position of the sun seems like more effort than it’s worth, and so he keeps them closed, listens to the rattle of his chest when he breathes and knows it means nothing good.

It is so unbearably hot.

He thinks he slips into unconsciousness again, but it’s hard to tell. He’s tired more often than he isn’t, and at least the blackness takes away the pain for a while. It would be better, he thinks, if he just stopped coming to.

He is so, so thirsty.

If this is Valhalla, where is the water?

So when he first hears the engine, he thinks he must be imagining things. His body relaxes, and he even allows himself to smile for a moment. _Ah_ , he thinks, languidly, _maybe this is Valhalla after all_.

There are sounds—walking sounds, animal sounds—and he is surprised. He didn’t think animals could enter Valhalla. Something cold and wet presses against his cheek, and then there is a sound—a bark.

A dog?

Nux remembers dogs, hazily, like something viewed through gauze. The Wretched had them, when he was a child, before he became a War Boy. He never had one, but he remembered them. He remembered liking them. If there are dogs here, Valhalla seems like a nice place. He tries to open his eyes, but it’s hard; his eyelids feel heavy, and he is tired, so tired, so so tired—

There are footsteps—human ones—and then a voice. It’s familiar and it reminds Nux of the road—of gravel, of dust, of a roaring engine and the crunching of tires. It is gravel and thunder. And it is pleasantly surprised.

“So,” it says, with something like pride in it. “You’re not dead, after all.”

At long last, Nux manages to crack his eyes open. He sees boots, a braced knee, and then he hears a bark and his eyes swivel, looking for the source. When he finds it, he thinks the voice must have been wrong or he must have misheard. He must be dead. Because there is a dog in front of him, and the dog is wearing goggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not three hundred percent sure where I'm going with this, but I needed to write it. I imagine this having a decent couple handfuls of chapters, so we'll see where the road takes us. Pun very much intended. Also, I imagine the dog to look like this: [1](http://s89.photobucket.com/user/Sweet72947/media/Dogs/FOHA%20Dogs/simone5.jpg.html), [2](http://cdn-www.dailypuppy.com/media/dogs/anonymous/28568/20090610350369_kevt053.jpg_w450.jpg)


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Nux comes to, it is to someone announcing, “He’s awake,” before he’s even sure of that himself.

When Nux comes to, it is to someone announcing, “He’s awake,” before he’s even sure of that himself.

_Am I_? he wonders. His brain feels fuzzy, dull. His brain used to feel like this, before, when he needed blood, but somehow it’s different this time. There’s a spot by his cheek that’s a little damp, and he wonders if he’s been drooling. He tries to kick his mind into gear, but it sputters like an engine left dormant too long. His thoughts are slow, and it takes a lot of effort to form them. _Was_ he sleeping? Did you need to sleep in Valhalla?

“You _are_ awake, aren’t you?” says the voice.

“Of course he’s awake,” snaps another voice, not unkindly. Both voices are female.

Someone is holding his hand. The film is starting to lift from his brain, and his thoughts are coming more easily now. His back hurts, and he feels a deep, dull ache in his muscles, but this is the sensation he focuses on the most. Someone is holding his hand. The fingers clasped around his are strong, sure, familiar. The only time someone held his hand was— But no, she can’t be here. Not here. Because being here would mean she is dead, and Nux can’t stand it if she’s dead, too.

His eyes snap open.

“Told you he was awake.”

He lifts his head as much as he can, looks around. The first person he sees is the Dag, passing his line of vision—deliberately, he thinks, because she smiles at him like they’re sharing a private joke—and he experiences a bloom of panic in the pit of his stomach. Is she dead, too? Did he fail at that, too? Was it all for nothing.

The pressure on his hand releases, and before he can wonder at it, she’s in front of him in a blur of tears and red, red hair. His throat goes dry, and the sputtering, unused feeling in his brain comes back. She is smiling, impossibly, and her eyes are wet and shiny and thick tears are rolling down her face. She shouldn’t be here, he thinks. He feels sick. Not here, not her, anyone but Capable, who was so alive and bright and shiny—

“You’re okay,” she whispers, reading the panic in his eyes. Something in him stills. “You’re safe. You’re home.” She reaches forward, places a hand on the back on his head, and leans forward to press her forehead against his. He recognizes it as the Imperator’s gesture, how she greeted the women from her childhood.

He closes his eyes. “It didn’t work,” he mumbles, miserable. “I failed.”

He feels Capable pull her forehead back from his and open his eyes again to see her looking at him, head tilted to one side, puzzled. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“He _thinks_ ,” says the Dag airily, breezing past again, “that he’s dead. So he thinks we’re all dead.”

“Oh!” Capable’s expression his horrified, immediately regretful. She turns to face him and shakes her head, emphatically, her thick braids swinging wildly. Any moment, one of them could smack him in the face. “No, no, Nux, we’re not dead, _you’re_ not dead, it’s all right—”

“Very much alive,” the Dag confirms. She skips forward and places a kiss, motherly, on the top of his head. “Even little Joe, in here,” she adds, pointing at her stomach. “More’s the pity. I’ll go tell Furiosa he’s awake,” she adds over her shoulder, heading for the door, and then, superfluously, “He’s awake,” to Cheedo, who is entering as she exits.

Cheedo looks at him, her eyes widen, and then she turns back to the door to yell, “Did you tell—”

“I’m going right now!” the Dag shouts back, and Cheedo turns into the room again. There are tears in her eyes, but she’s smiling, so he thinks it’s okay.

She doesn’t kneel in front of him like Capable, but she does come over and touch his shoulder, very lightly. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she says.

Nux wants to talk, but it’s hard when he’s lying on his chest. He puts his hand on either side of him to push himself up, but Capable’s eyes widen and she pushes him back down by his shoulders. He stares at her, confused.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she sounds like she means it, “but you have to stay like this until we’re sure you’re okay to move. Your back, it’s all…” She makes a fluttery hand gesture and lifts the corner of her mouth in something like a snarl; it makes him smile, and he brings his arms around instead, folds them in front of him, enough to lift his head off the cot but not enough to disturb whatever bandages are on his back.

When he looks down, he can see that the bandages come all the way up his chest. “What happened?” he asks, more to himself.

Capable’s eyes search his. “You don’t remember?”

He thinks. What _does_ he remember? He remembers Rictus, wrenching the engine off the front of the War Rig. He remembers thinking that this is not how he wants to die, not because of someone else. If he has to die, he’s going to do it his way, and he’s going to save them if he can. He remembers the world spinning, the crunch of metal on metal, the sounds, and fire fire fire—

—and he remembers lying on the ground and hearing the voice, like gravel, remembers a dog wearing goggles—

—the inside of a car, the smell of guzzoline, the roar of an engine, the smell of dust, and the same gravelly voice saying, “You’re okay” and, “You’re going home.”

He comes back to the present to find Capable and Cheedo watching him; the latter is close to the doorway, looking ready to run and yell for help if they need it, and she relaxes when she sees he recognizes her.

“Blood Bag?” he asks Capable.

She stares for a moment in total incomprehension before it dawns on her. “Oh, you mean Max. That’s his name. He left again.” There’s a hardness in her voice that she suggests she’d like to tell the Road Warrior exactly how she feels about him leaving, and it makes warmth spread in Nux’s chest. Her face is a storm, and she is so, so beautiful.

“Max,” he murmurs, trying out the name. It feels weird.

He wants to say more, but there is someone in the doorway, and Capable turns, gets to her feet. She stands in front of him, and even from the back he can tell that her chin is tilted up in the way she has when she’s about to stand her ground. He stops himself from reaching out to touch the hem of her dress. There are footsteps, a new voice.

“I heard he was awake.”

“He is.” Capable still sounds ready for a fight, ready to tell off someone for bothering him.

The Imperator steps into his line of vision, and her expression is soft, amused. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she says, looking past Capable to Nux.

He scrambles, tries to get up, but Capable catches him and holds him down, hissing something about his bandages. “Imperator—” he gasps, and Furiosa holds up a hand.

“You don’t have to get up. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” She smiles, a little, and, after a beat, Nux smiles back.

It’s unfamiliar, an Imperator smiling, but if this is the new way of doing things, he might be able to get used to it. She came to check on him, came because they told her that he was awake, and he isn’t used to such treatment. He’s just a War Boy. War Boys don’t get checked on. When a War Boy gets hurt, he gets left behind. It’s nice not to be left behind. His Blood Bag came _back_ for him.

“I have some things I need to take care of,” the Imperator says, to Capable now. “I’ll come back later. For now, I’ll let you rest. Are you going to stay?” she adds.

Capable’s chin tilts up a little higher. “Yes.”

Furiosa smiles again, that amused half-laugh from before. “Okay. Don’t forget to eat.”

Then she’s gone, and Cheedo slips out with her, and Nux lets his head flop back onto the pillow. All of the talking has exhausted him; his brain feels muzzy and unclear again. He feels Capable’s fingers on his forehead, soft, cool.

“Are you all right?” she asks, quietly.

“Tired,” he mumbles.

“Okay.” Her lips brush his forehead, and he lets out a happy, humming sound. “Rest, then.”

He doesn’t want her to leave. He doesn’t want to sleep if it means her going away. “Stay,” he says, incoherently.

“I’ll be right here,” she promises. “Right here. Now rest,” she says.

And he does.


	3. Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His back still itches, and he fidgets on the cot, until finally he looks at Toast and blurts, “What’s that?”
> 
> She looks up, eyebrows drawn together and slightly raised, as if she’s taking a moment to understand what he said. When she still seems confused, he grunts and nods at the think in her hand. She looks from him to it, hefting it in her hand.
> 
> “This?” she asks, and then, when he nods, “It’s a book. You’ve never seen a book before?”

His world is red.

He is driving the War Rig, but the steering wheel is melting under his hands. Rictus stands on the hood, holding the flaming engine. There is the dirt and the sand and the _fire_ and everything is red, impossibly red, and when he looks out the windshield there is Capable and she is red, too—her hair is on fire, the flames dancing against her cheeks, and he has to _save_ her, but there is Rictus to think about, Rictus with the flaming engine and the flaming _eyes_ —when did his eyes start to flame, this isn’t right—and he jerks the wheel and the Rig flips and then everything is just red red red—

“ _Nux!_ ”

His eyes snap open and he gasps like a drowned man. He’s sitting up without memory of how he got there, and his ribs ache, but the only thing he can think of is Capable with her flaming hair.

“Capable,” he says, hoarsely, and then, when he’s more aware, “ _Capable!_ ”

The slap on isn’t hard enough to really hurt, but it snaps him back to awareness nonetheless. He blinks, forces his eyes to focus, and notices Toast in front of him, her dark eyes fixed on his. When she sees that he’s returned to himself, she sighs and leans back, running a hand through her short hair.

“Capable’s okay,” she says, speaking slowly. “She just went to get you some food and water.” Her manner is gruff, but there is something tender, understanding in the way she looks at him when she says, “It was just a nightmare, Nux.”

She moves away from him, leaning down to scoop something off the floor on her way. He watches her move to sit on the steps leading to the second level, propping her back against one of the large glass windows and chewing on a fingernail. She seems busy, so he lets her be and instead focuses on calming himself down.

He feels winded, and now that he’s paying attention to his own needs again, there’s a dull ache in his ribs. His back itches, and he reaches around to scratch before he remembers the bandages. The pictures in his mind—the nightmare—he’s had them before, but never like this, and he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. If only he could ground the memory of it out, forget everything he saw.

The specifics are already fleeing, retreating to some dark corner of his mind from which they’ll undoubtedly emerge to plague him again the next time he sleeps. Maybe he just won’t sleep anymore. That seems like a better option. The remnants he’s left with are piecemeal and nonsensical, but he can still remember Capable’s flaming hair with disturbing clarity. Toast reassured him—mostly—but he won’t feel completely at ease until he sees her for himself.

He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes again and then takes stock of where he is. There is a large pool in the center of the room, into which water trickles. Light filters through the glass in the ceiling, and there is a pleasant breeze with which Nux is unfamiliar. The War Boys all sleep in a dog pile in the far reaches of the Citadel, away from light and air and anything other than the smell of grease and unwashed bodies.

This is much nicer.

There is something white smeared on the floor—paint, maybe?—and there are what look like leather-wrapped piles of paper littered all over the room. When he glances at Toast, he sees that she has one of these piles open in her hand. He watches her for a minute as she flips a piece over; he is curious but doesn’t want to interrupt her—she looks very focused. But Nux can only entertain himself by looking around for so long, and he isn’t used to sitting still. His back still itches, and he fidgets on the cot, until finally he looks at Toast and blurts, “What’s that?”

She looks up, eyebrows drawn together and slightly raised, as if she’s taking a moment to understand what he said. When she still seems confused, he grunts and nods at the think in her hand. She looks from him to it, hefting it in her hand.

“This?” she asks, and then, when he nods, “It’s a book. You’ve never seen a book before?”

Nux just stares at her uncomprehendingly, so she gets to her feet, dusting off her backside and moving down the stairs. She perches lightly on the edge of the cot beside him and hands him the bundle—the book—in her hands. He takes it and looks at it, unsure.

“What do you do with it?”

“Well.” Toast’s brow furrows, as if it has never occurred to her that Nux might not understand. “You read it.”

He widens his eyes and smiles just a little, waiting for her to explain. He feels impossibly stupid, and when Toast gently eases the book from his hands, he thinks that she will get up and walk away and tell the other Wives just how dumb this half-life War Boy really is. But she doesn’t get up; she opens the book and slides it closer to him, so it’s resting partially on her leg and partially on his.

“There are words,” she explains, pointing.

Nux squints at them, but everything swims before his eyes and all he sees are scribbles. There is a small drawing in the corner, something leafy and green. He points at it. “Tree?”

Toast nods, smiling. “Yes, that’s a tree. This is a book about nature—trees, plants—all of those things Dag is taking care of. You’ll see them soon,” she adds to his bewildered expression.

“How did you learn to read?” Nux asks.

Toast’s eyes burn. “My mother taught me.”

Before Nux can say anything else, Capable eases her way in through the door of the Vault. Something eases in Nux’s shoulders when he sees her hair is the same as it has always been. Her expression changes from surprise to pleasure when she sees he’s awake. Toast stands to make room for her, taking the book with her, and Capable slides into the vacated space, balancing a plate and a waterskin on her knee. On impulse, Nux captures the braid resting on the shoulder nearest him and pressed a kiss to it. Capable’s smile is pleased but bewildered, and Nux smiles back before he can even process performing the action.

“This is for you,” she announces, gesturing at what she’s brought along.

“All of this?” he asks in wonder when she hands him the plate. He’s never eaten so much food in his life, let alone in one sitting. He picks up a piece of bread and looks from it to her.

“All of it. You need to keep up your strength.” She bumps his shoulder with hers, and his shoulder feels tingly when she pulls away. “Go on, eat.” She watches him until he nibbles the piece of bread, then relaxes and rests her head on his shoulder. It takes him longer to swallow, and it has nothing to do with Larry and Barry.

After a moment, during which Nux manages to eat the piece of bread and two pieces of cheese, Capable picks her head up off of his shoulder and peers up at him. “Shouldn’t you be lying down?”

“He’s fine!” Toast calls from the stairs, where she’s retreated again, the book back in her hand. “He didn’t bleed through the bandages sitting up, let him be. God knows we both know what torture it is just to _lie_ there.”

Toast’s comment is flippant, but something about it gets to Capable, because she turns nearly as red as her hair and presses her face into Nux’s shoulder. He almost chokes on his cheese. Just when he is about to ask her if she’s all right, she takes a deep breath and stops hiding her face. She snatches a piece of cheese off of Nux’s plate and smiles mischievously at him when he looks at her in surprise. His stomach flips.

“So,” she asks as she eats, “what were you two talking about?”

“Books,” Nux supplies, eager to return to the conversation. “Toast was telling me what a book is.”

“Oh!” Capable looks from Toast, who is still reading, back to Nux. Her eyes widen in a way that indicates pleasure more than surprise.

“Do you know how to…” His mind casts around for the word. “Read?”

Capable nods. “I do.” She tilts her head to the side, looking at him curiously. “Do you?”

He shakes his head, feeling inadequate but also something else, something wonderful. Capable thought he was smart enough to know how to read. “Could you teach me?” he asks, eager. There are so many of these book-things in the room, and if they’re not going to let him leave for a while, he’d like to have a way to entertain himself. Toast seems to like them.

“Yes, of course!” Capable’s expression is immediately alive, and Nux’s chest aches in a way totally different from the rib pain. She springs to her feet and flits around the piles, murmuring to herself and picking ones up, sometimes knocking over entire towers to get something on the bottom of one. “I’ll have to teach you letters, first,” she says, and though she addresses Nux, he has a feeling she’s speaking more to herself. “But that shouldn’t be too hard, we can paint on the ground if I can’t find any paper…”

She seems to run out of steam after a while and returns to the cot, making several small towers of books at the foot. “We can start tomorrow, if you’d like.”

He nods. “Yes, yeah, I’d like that.”

“I don’t know if I’ll always be able to teach you if I have something I need to do for Furiosa.” Capable worries at her lower lip until Nux reaches out and touches his thumb to it, and she smiles up at him gratefully. “But I’m sure I could get some of the other Sisters to help.”

“I won’t mind,” Toast supplies from across the room.

Capable claps her hands together. “Perfect! I’ll talk to the others, I’m sure they’ll like to help. But Toast is the one who knows the most; she’s the best at it.”

Nux looks at Toast, to see how she’ll respond to this high praise, but something in the young woman’s expression has changed. There is something dark there, something pained, and she closes the book with a loud _clap_ that rings off the high ceiling. Nux flinches, and Capable’s eyebrows draw together. She moves forward a bit, putting herself slightly between her and Nux, but even Nux can see that the anger is internalized, not directed at them.

“I’m not the best,” Toast says hollowly. “That was Angharad.” She raises her eyes to look at them, and there is something haunted there that makes Nux lose his appetite. “Angharad was the best at everything. She was the best of all of us.” She gets to her feet and moves up the steps to the second level.

Nux stares at the plate in his lap until long after the sound of her footsteps stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever to write. It's been a long time since I've forced myself to sit down and write, and I started and re-started this chapter about three times. I think I might finally be on more solid ground with my writing again, so hopefully the next chapter doesn't take as long. Comments, by the way, are always appreciated. :)


End file.
